


A Helping Hand

by Vault_of_Glass



Series: Opportunities for Leisure [7]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Breathplay, Dirty Talk, Double Penetration, Exhibitionism, F/M, Masturbation, Multi, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Spanking, Threesome - F/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 06:49:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6069325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vault_of_Glass/pseuds/Vault_of_Glass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>River admits to threesomes in her college days. MacCready recruits Hancock for a reenactment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Helping Hand

MacCready wasn't sure why he couldn't get the idea out of his head. She'd mentioned it in passing over dinner once: a few drinks in, sultry and flirtatious, like she ever needed to be either to seduce him. She could pull her pants down and point wordlessly at the nirvana between her thighs and he'd be inside her in a moment. But that was what he loved about her, the drama and emotion she carried over from the old world, like a relic, a fossil of a life he could only ever imagine.

" _Pre-war life was far from boring_ ," she insisted, a hand inching up his thigh. " _I'll have you know I did my fair share of crazy things when I was younger and much, much dumber._ "

" _Try me._ "

She averted her gaze, nibbling her bottom lip pensively, and he knew her well enough to know she was holding onto something good. He faked a dramatic yawn to provoke it out of her.

" _Fine_ ," she snapped, lips turning up into a reluctant smirk. " _When Nate and I were in college, he and his roommate used to . . . share me."_

And then he'd listened in shock and fascination to her explanation, watching the pink grow in her cheeks, and realizing that he wasn't the only one growing more and more aroused with each word.

_**Share me.** _

The two words had echoed like some hypnotic mantra in the back of his mind ever since, the way her lips had formed around the phonemes like a prayer - he thought of it while they finished their drinks and afterwards, when he'd made love to her, he'd pictured the hands of another man on her body, pleasing her, worshipping her like she deserved to be worshipped. It felt fucking strange - equal parts envy and arousal, with the latter growing stronger every time he looked at her and imagined just how hard two men might be able to make her come.

It took about a month for him to realize he wasn't going to shake the fantasy. It had latched itself like a parasite to the stem of his brain, braving the stream of his thoughts for weeks until it resolved into the decision that he had to do something about it.

It was another few weeks before it seemed all right to bring it up again. River had been traveling to and from the Institute regularly now, and each time she returned more drained than the last. She'd found Shaun, but had no chance for relief or joy since their reunion. If anything, he seemed to only be adding stress onto her already overburdened shoulders. MacCready loved her desperately, devastatingly. He would level the whole Institute if it meant she'd get a little peace and quiet again. Inviting another man into their bed seemed such a small - and, okay, maybe just a little bit exciting - favor in comparison.

She didn't seem surprised when he brought it up, so vaguely he may as well have been talking about nothing at all. "I can't stop thinking about what you said the other night."

But she did seem a little embarrassed when she replied, "Me, too."

Well.

"But we gotta take it slow," she continued quickly at the smile that spread over his face. "I mean, it's been literal centuries, and I'm not twenty years old anymore." She paused to kiss him, soft and sweet with a sensual heat in the feeling of her tongue brushing his. "It has to be someone we trust."

"Besides you, there's only one other person I trust in the whole Commonwealth."

River smiled mischievously. Felt like he could read her mind at times. "Okay," she agreed, anticipation low and silky in her voice. "Let's write him a letter."

* * *

Hancock sighed heavily, leaning back in his seat. The mentats hummed like a current through his mind, carrying his thoughts to completion even while his body screamed for sleep. He thought of his bed at Sanctuary with longing, waking up in the early afternoon and lazing about, high on jet, with Dogmeat in the sun. Occasionally escorting River on a mission and watching her kill things in that deliciously tight vault suit of hers. He considered MacCready a good friend - hell, a best friend, all things considered - would never dream of jeopardizing the relationship there, but he'd have to be four kinds of blind not to notice the curves on that woman.

"Hancock."

He looked up from the papers strewn over his desk. Fahrenheit leaned against the doorframe, a makeshift envelope in her hands.

"Letter for you. Came in on the last caravan."

"Give it here. Might as well take care of it now, before the mentats wear off." He unfolded the letter and started to read it with disinterest. Then, as the words started to sink in, his jaw dropped and he stared at the piece of paper as if it might jump up from the desk and attack him.

Fahrenheit cocked a brow at him. "Everything all right, boss?"

Then Hancock laughed, a low, husky, dangerous-sounding growl. He stuffed the letter into his pocket and got to his feet. "Everything's perfect. In fact, everything's fucking fantastic," he assured her, throwing his coat over his shoulders. "And I gotta go. Be a doll and take care of the town for me, wouldja? Don't burn the house down and don't answer the door for strangers, you know the whole song and dance."

Fahrenheit watched him leap down the spiral staircase with a new spring in his step, shaking her head with a curl of dark laughter. Nothing but a woman ever put a fire under the boss like that. She wondered how far the letter had come from, and how long it would take him to get there.

It ended up taking all night to get back to Sanctuary Hills, but Hancock didn't mind the journey. He reread their letter for the thousandth time, cigarette after cigarette burning to ash in his hand. He'd spent enough time around the couple to catch glimpses of their intimate life - a kiss that lingered too long here and there, an embrace that was just a little too tight, hands that wandered to places indecent for a public setting. MacCready's sexual appetites didn't surprise him - he was young and hitched to the most beautiful woman to ever grace the Commonwealth dirt beneath her boots. But River, she was an enigma, the pre-war pin-up, eyes the color of honey and a voice just as sweet. He'd be lying if he said he'd never harbored any fantasies about her, before she and MacCready became a thing and then even, in the uninhibited haze of a jet high, several times afterwards. Picturing her soft skin and those legs for days, warm and smooth beneath his hands, the kinds of sounds he might be able to tease out of her. If he wasn't staring at the words on paper right in front of him, he wouldn't believe they were real.

_Hancock -_

_I'm sorry to bother you while you're working. But something MacCready asked me the other day brought up some memories - old memories, pre-war, faded and blurred._

Even without the looping, elegant script, he knew it was River from the flow of her words. Woman could charm the pants off a raider if she felt like it.

_Once upon a time, I used to know how to have fun. It's a skill MacCready is helping me to remember, despite how the Commonwealth has changed around me. Back in my college days, that 'fun' used to include a third person - another man, in fact. We trust you, John, more than anyone else, otherwise we wouldn't even have the courage to ask._

_Would you care to join us for a night?_

And then, in what was unmistakably MacCready's clumsy scrawl:

_I see the way you look at her. Now come back to Sanctuary and get in on this._

Kid thought he was so damn funny.

_If you're not interested, we won't make things weird. Promise._

_Hope to hear from you soon._

_Love,_

_River and RJ_

A woman like River could be the death of him, but mortality wasn't a prospect that had ever slowed him down before. Be a hell of a shame to let it stop him now.

* * *

River set out in the morning to repaint the picket fence outside of the Ables' old house, using the free time to tackle her overflowing to-do list. It had been about a week since they sent their letter off with the caravan, and she'd had butterflies in her stomach ever since. The busywork helped, and MacCready's occasional assurance, always with a grin, "Oh, he'll come. Don't you worry your pretty little head about it."

But nothing seemed to be able to staunch the fantasies that plucked coyly at every idle thought, piecing together faded memories of hands, so many hands, touching her everywhere all at once, so much sensation it felt like coming alive after a long, deep slumber - funnily enough, an experience she finally understood. The memories mingled with newer ones, MacCready's voice breaking apart around her name, his teeth on her skin, wide, rifle-calloused fingers leaving trails of heat and pleasure over her body. And then there was the fantasy, imagining new, foreign hands on her skin, mottled and rough, that devilish rasp coaxing her through heights of ecstasy she hadn't experienced since before the bombs dropped and destroyed the world as she knew it.

That sensual, haunting image was still in her mind when River headed inside the house for more paint. She rested briefly against the kitchen counter, enjoying relief from the hot sun. She wiped her brow with the back of her wrist, turning to notice for the first time Hancock himself, watching her from where he leaned against the end of the hallway. She gaped at him, trying to summon words past the filthy thoughts she'd been having about him only moments ago. He must've come in last night, too late for anyone to notice. His boots were still muddy from the journey.

"Hancock," she finally managed to say, feeling her cheeks burn.

"In the flesh." That last word in his voice felt like a mortal sin.

"I take it you, uh . . . got our letter."

He pushed himself off the wall and came closer, the smirk on his face so devious she feared for a moment he could somehow read her thoughts, then figured they were probably pretty obvious from the expression on her face. He crowded her up against the counter, planting his hands on either side of her hips, and she felt like she could've fallen endlessly into the black depths of his eyes. "I did," he rasped, pulling the folded slip of paper from his breast pocket. "Have to say, never thought I'd get a summons from the General herself."

"Well, it's not all business, Mayor," River played along, finally remembering how to smile, noticing the way his eyes drifted to her lips and stayed there. "Though I thank you for showing up so quickly." _Seriously, he must've hit the road as soon as he got it to make it here so soon. Damn it, if RJ isn't always somehow right._

"I could never keep a lady like _you_ waiting." He leaned in close, until she could feel his breath along her jaw line, his voice like a physical sensation crawling rough and sensual over her skin. "You know, I've always wondered. Are you as much of a screamer as I imagine you are?"

River bit back the groan that almost made its way out, her knees feeling weak. "That's for us to know and you to find out," she teased, once she'd found her voice again, slipping out from between his arms. He watched her pick up another can of white paint and head for the door, the smirk still on his face. "Go find MacCready, if you get a chance. He wanted a word with you." She paused in the doorway and shot him a wink. "See you tonight at the truck stop."

Then she was gone, and Hancock flexed his hands, dying to feel her between them. They'd barely spoken five minutes and already he wanted her so bad it was painful. She'd never looked at him like that before, breathy and pouty and practically oozing sensuality from the white silk of her hair down to her long, shapely legs. He wondered how MacCready could stand it, being around her all the time. Must've been torture not to be inside of her every waking moment.

"She said I'd find you here." MacCready grinned smugly at him from the doorway. "Oh, man, you look shell-shocked. What'd she say to you?"

"Nothing, really. Doesn't really need to, you feel me?"

"Believe me, I get it." His smile faltered then, and he cleared his throat, casting his eyes elsewhere. "Look, this is definitely still a little weird for me. I want it, and she wants it, just, uh . . ."

Hancock pressed a reassuring hand to his friend's shoulder. "This ain't my first threesome, kid. We'll start slow, yeah? Feel things out."

The smile returned, grateful this time. "Thanks, man. Something like this . . . it's been a while for her." He let out a sigh, hard with frustration as he struggled to find the right words. "This Institute shi - stuff," he corrected himself impatiently, "with Shaun and everything . . . it's getting under her skin. She needs to do something selfish every now and then. She's tried to talk me out of this, like, fifty times already because she thinks she's forcing me into it."

Not surprising, from River.

"What I'm trying to say is, her having a good time is the whole point. If she calls it off, it's off. I just wanted to make sure there's no hard feelings if that happens."

"You've seen this mug," Hancock joked, lighting the cigarette at his lips. "Surprised she didn't call it off the second she saw me today."

MacCready studied him intently for a while, finally offered up a fond, distant smile. Thoughtful looked strange on a face so young, and he wondered what exactly the kid was remembering to give him such an expression. "You should hear some of the things she says about you. Then you'd know how stupid what you just said is."

Hancock glared, but damn if his curiosity wasn't piqued now. "Oh, yeah? What kinda things we talkin' about here?"

"No way. She'd kill me if I told. You'll just have to find out."

"Goddamn, is she teaching you how to be cryptic? She only gets away with it 'cause she's drop-dead. It's gonna get real old from you, brother." He couldn't help a smile when MacCready snickered. "You're, ah . . . sure you're good with this, too, right? I'll be the first to admit I've broken my fair share of hearts, but I care about you guys."

"Don't worry, man. We're good." MacCready shrugged, face scrunching up in almost comical confusion. "I don't really get it myself, but the thought doesn't bother me at all. I guess we'll see when it's the real thing, right?" The end of his sentence tapered off, slipping toward uncertainty.

"You can back out, too, you know," Hancock offered solemnly. "You just say the word."

"Thanks, Hancock." He picked up the last bucket of white paint, eyeing the muddy tracks Hancock's boots left across the living room floor. "You got here awful quick," he teased.

"You seen that woman of yours, kid?"

"I know, right?" he laughed, arrogant as always. "Look, I gotta go help with this boring settlement stuff. Meet us at the gas station tonight. Bring some drinks, maybe. She likes whiskey." He stepped over the threshold, calling casually over his shoulder, "Later, Hancock!" as if they were just shootin' the shit, not discussing the logistics of the two of them fucking the love of his life later that evening.

Those two were somethin' else, that was for sure. Strange and sarcastic and his kind of freak show.

* * *

Time had never passed so slowly before, and he'd done every time-altering drug in the book. Hancock was stretched out over a sun lounger, Dogmeat curled up in the grass at his side. Somewhere in the distance a radio was playing, interrupted here and there by the staccato banging of some settlers at the side of a house. Felt damn good to be back, nothing on his plate but a little sexual frustration. He was a big enough man to handle that for a few more hours. He peeked an eye open, gauging from the sun how late in the day it was. _Okay, several more hours. Fuck me._

He liked this spot the most, more toward the river than the town. Fewer people out and about, eyeing him with distrust or curiosity. Just him and the dog, soaking up some sunshine. He reached out to pat the hound appreciatively and opened his eyes when he found only empty air. Dogmeat was sitting up at attention, staring off toward a house halfway between them and Sanctuary's entrance. Hancock sat up on his elbows, feeling his stomach do a sudden turn as he realized what had caught the dog's attention.

There was a small tool-shed in a nearby backyard. MacCready had River pushed up onto a workbench behind it, a hand braced against it at her side. They were tucked into the shadow of the shed, the side facing the river, practically nonexistent to anyone wandering about town, but perfectly visible from Hancock's lounger. It seemed too convenient to be coincidental, but they made no indication that they knew he was there. MacCready ducked his head low to whisper something in her ear, and at this distance Hancock could only imagine what he might be saying, what might turn a woman like River on. Whatever it was made her laugh, and if he strained he could just catch the melodic sound of it.

River put a hand on his chest, holding him back, and from her body language it seemed like she was trying to protest, if only playfully. But MacCready was all hands, on her waist, her hips, sliding up beneath the cotton of her T-shirt. He lowered his head, kissing her throat, and judging from the way River curled readily against him, he knew just how to get her riled up.

 _Atta boy._ Hancock sat a little higher on his lounger, slowly, trying not to be noticed. He was already hard, and he palmed the stiff length of his cock, adjusting it beneath the weight of his pants.

They were kissing now, River tugging him closer by the collar of his shirt. He wove his fingers into her hair, releasing it from its band so it fell in platinum waves down over her shoulders. She was already working his belt open - _Jesus, she's fuckin' eager_ \- a smile on her face that Hancock could make out even from here. She was wearing a skirt today, and one of his hands slid up the slope of her thigh, disappearing underneath it. Only moments later, River threw her head back, rolling her hips against him with need.

_Good with your hands, huh, MacCready? All the locks I've seen her pick, I bet River's pretty damn good with hers, too. . . ._

MacCready pulled her underwear down her legs, River lifting her hips to help him peel them off. Then he was yanking her to the edge of the workbench, lining himself up, and Hancock held his breath as he watched him push into her. She fell back against the shed with a gasp as he ducked his head, mouth moving frantically. If anything could make the stubborn kid forget himself and curse, Hancock figured it was probably that moment, sliding into her sweet cunt for that first time, and he wondered if she was as beautiful there as she was everywhere else. He'd bet his whole stash that she was.

He watched in voyeuristic fascination as MacCready pumped his hips, hasty, clumsy due to the height difference between him and the workbench, but River seemed no less pleased for it. She clawed at his shoulders, those long legs wrapped around his waist like she'd never let him go. From the way her lips were parting, he could only imagine all the delicious little noises she must've been making.

Hancock had to hold back a groan, trying to ignore his aching cock. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this hard. He flexed his hips, longing to hear and feel and taste her for himself.

Once they were through with her tonight, she'd forget the Institute even existed.

Hancock perched at the end of the lounger, watching raptly as MacCready and River rutted like animals behind a tool-shed. It wasn't an activity he'd ever imagined himself partaking in, but now that he was here, he couldn't take his eyes off them.

She was ten different kinds of sexy he couldn't even begin to put into words - so responsive to every little thing he did, from his teeth at her throat to his hands on her ass, coaxing her legs further apart so he could thrust deeper. MacCready was rough with her, rougher than Hancock would've been - she was probably gonna have bruises on her shoulders from hitting them against the tool-shed behind her so many times.

River seemed fine, though. More than fine, if he was being honest. Her cries were getting louder, each one like an electric shock to his nervous system, delicious chills down the length of his spine. MacCready was fucking her faster now, so hard her teeth were probably rattling and the tool-shed threatened to come down behind them. He pushed her shirt impatiently up over her breasts, taking the rosy peak of a nipple into his mouth. Seemed like they didn't want to dawdle in such a public place, no matter how badly Hancock wanted them to go on.

_Fuck it, she practically owns this town. What's the point of bein' in charge if you can't filthy up a tool-shed every now and then?_

He'd had his share of alleyway trysts in Goodneighbor, but what he was witnessing was an entirely different beast. First of all, despite how savagely he was fucking her, MacCready was absolutely head over heels for her. You could hear it in the way he said her name, the look on his face whenever he saw her, even now in the gentle press of his hand against her face. Second, River was no Commonwealth broad. She was grade-A pre-war perfection, curves in all the right fucking places, and those lips you couldn't help but picture around your cock.

The mental image made him grunt at another wave of arousal, clutching the arms of his chair. " _You wouldn't believe what she can do with that mouth_ ," MacCready had confided in him one drunken night, after the woman in question had already passed out. Had he been thinking of Hancock fucking her even then?

The ghoul sighed, frustrated, the remains of his skin itching and oversensitive. He wanted to march over there and tell them they didn't need to try so hard, he would gladly fuck River without all this production. Wanted to ease himself in behind her and feel every clench and swell of her body when she came apart. Wanted her to hear his voice in the throes of her climax, as he told her how beautiful she looked, how badly she made him want her.

Hancock had been staring too long without looking away. He realized it the second River's head turned his way and they made eye contact over a distance that felt like an entire ocean. He swallowed past his dry throat, willing himself to look away, but those amber eyes held his firm. Then she was shouting, growing louder into a crescendo, holding his gaze until she couldn't anymore, and she closed her eyes, let herself get swept up in the force of her orgasm.

 _That's it, kitten. You come nice and hard. Jesus, look at you._ He felt wild, on the verge of feral, worried for a fleeting second he might come in his pants like a teenager. If she was normally appetizing, she was fucking mouthwatering when she came. He wanted his face between her thighs for the next forever. Wouldn't mind if he died with the taste of her on his tongue, and if that wasn't the most romantic thing he'd ever thought about a broad, he didn't know what was.

MacCready gave a few more erratic thrusts before he stiffened, biting the base of her neck to keep himself quiet. River stroked the back of his head, soothing him as he came inside of her, while Hancock tried to tame his racing pulse with deep, measured breaths.

He liked to think he'd lived a thrilling, adventurous life - shared his bed with too many beautiful men and women to count, but watching his best friend fuck River was hands down the hottest thing he'd ever seen.

The rest of the day passed without incident. River seemed to be giving Hancock some distance, whether out of embarrassment or as yet another way to drive him crazy, he wasn't sure. Pre-war dames weren't exactly his specialty. All he knew was he couldn't get her out of his head: her delicious screams and that haunting, pointed gaze she'd shot him as she came around MacCready's cock. Jesus, it was enough to drive a man insane. His whole body still felt tense and uncomfortable, erection straining for friction in his pants, but he refused to touch himself when there was promise of River's soft, perfect hands on him at some point later.

It was dark when MacCready finally came to get him. He knocked at the door frame, eyes bright and excited. "You ready, man?"

"For River?" Hancock stubbed his cigar out, exhaling a thick plume of smoke from between his grinning teeth. "Always."

They moved quietly down the street. Most people had headed indoors already. There was no one but the guards at the gate to notice them making their way toward the gas station, but after that little performance they put on for him today, Hancock had to figure River wasn't too concerned about her sterling reputation as General.

"Any collateral damage earlier?" he teased once they were out of earshot.

"Couple people might've overheard, maybe," MacCready said, averting his gaze. "She promised she'd be quiet." Then he chuckled darkly, and he didn't need to voice the rest of his thought: _Yeah, right._

Hancock studied his expression, smoothed out like glass, like the kid didn't have a worry in the world. He wondered if he just really loved River that much, or if this was something he genuinely wanted. He'd certainly heard of - let's be honest, participated in - stranger circumstances, romantic, carnal, and everything in between. Just hadn't expected it from these two.

 _Interesting_ , he remembered telling River once, so high at the time he couldn't be entirely sure it really happened. _Real interesting._

He hadn't known the half of it.

The lights were on at the gas station, and Hancock almost laughed at the sight. Something like relief and anxiety and a maddening, ravenous lust settled deep in the pit of his belly. He followed MacCready into the garage, and then he saw River and stopped dead in his tracks. It was incredible how quickly she could reduce him to a pile of bones and brain and muscle, the long sweep of her white hair, so much better when it hung free like that, the tempting shape of her legs beneath the cut of her dress.

She was standing on her tiptoes, trying to reach some candles on a shelf just out of her reach. She glanced over her shoulder and flashed them a dazzling smile. "Just in time. Can one of you boys help me out over here?"

MacCready took the bottle of whiskey from Hancock's hands. "You're taller," he offered simply, tipping his head in her direction before stalking off to find some glasses.

"Thank you," River breathed as Hancock crossed the room toward her.

"Happy to help," he purred, watching the way she shuddered in response. He didn't break eye contact as he reached up to grab the candles for her, and she nibbled her bottom lip when he pressed them into her hands. He leaned closer, backing her up against the garage wall. Her breath caught in her throat, a hungry, impatient little sound, even after being fucked by MacCready earlier _. Insatiable little firecracker_. He caught her chin in his hand, tracing his thumb over her bottom lip, and groaned when she lapped at him with her tongue.

"How 'bout those drinks?" She was smiling beneath his thumb, and reluctantly, he backed away. She sauntered like a cat over to the couch, where MacCready was pouring her drink.

"You are absolute perfection," she sighed lovingly, lowering herself down next to him. The Nuka Cherry was still cold from the ice box, sugary on her tongue when she took a sip with the bitter heat of quality whiskey underneath. Then MacCready kissed her, tongue dipping into her mouth to chase the sweetness there.

"Good?" he asked, his breath cool against the corner of her mouth.

"Amazing."

Hancock dropped down onto the couch beside them, throwing an arm casually over the back. She glanced at MacCready, who chuckled and nodded, then swiped the bottle up into her slender hand and clambered over onto Hancock's lap.

"Good stuff you brought, John," she approved, offering him the bottle.

He took a long swig, and she watched his throat move from under heavy lids when he swallowed. "Only the best for you, kitten." Her cheeks went pink, lips parting like an invitation, and he laughed knowingly under his breath. Addicting, all the little reactions he seemed to be able to coax out of her. "Candles, huh?" he asked at the sound of a flip lighter. MacCready was lighting them on the coffee table behind River's back, a smirk on his face.

"I'm a bit of a romantic," she admitted with a coy smile. "And I thought you boys deserve a little romance."

There were those words again, _you boys_ , and when she said it like that it sounded suspiciously like _my boys._ And the worst fucking part was that he _liked it._ Didn't seem to bother MacCready much either, as he caught one of her hands and brushed his lips over her knuckles before getting up to turn the harsh overhead lights off.

River pressed her lips to the edge of Hancock's jaw. He could smell vanilla and cigarette smoke in her hair, feel the smooth skin of her thighs beneath his hands. "Did you take anything?" She sounded more curious than judgmental, her voice muted and soft.

"Sober as a judge." He threaded his fingers through the silk of her hair, trying to remember if he'd ever felt anything so soft before. "Didn't want to forget a thing."

"You won't," she promised, and then she kissed him, so gentle, as if he couldn't feel the heat and need that lingered below the surface. He caught her face in his hands, parting her lips with his, and his tongue running along her bottom lip was all it took to provoke the hellfire he'd heard in her screams earlier. Her teeth nipped him punishingly, just hard enough to hurt, and he savored the sting and the sweetness of her drink he could still taste on her lips.

She felt his laughter like a rumble deep in his chest. "You're gonna be trouble, too, aren't you?" she mused. MacCready laughed, on the other side of the couch from them, but Hancock couldn't tear his eyes away from her.

"I thought you liked trouble," MacCready teased. He still tasted of whiskey when she leaned over to kiss him, one of his hands securing a fistful of her hair. Hancock's fingers inched up her thighs, toward the curve of her ass, and she whimpered, sinking down harder onto him. MacCready trapped her jaw in his hand, studying the facets of her face intently. His hand closed around her throat - a warning, or a promise, or something in between - and the sigh that eased from between her lips was nothing short of musical. "Don't feel obligated to take it easy on her, Hancock," he advised with amusement. "She rarely deserves it."

"Trouble," she accused him in a snarl, above the sound of Hancock's chuckle. She pushed herself back into the ghoul's lap, draping her arms around his neck. His mouth was on her in a second, warm suction over the sensitive skin of her throat. Then she felt the blunt edge of his teeth, and she couldn't help the cry she let loose.

Hancock hummed thoughtfully, lapping at the spot where he'd bitten her. "Like it rough, do you? Why am I not surprised?"

She squirmed at the sound of his voice, and he tensed his legs, pulling her down against the erection trapped beneath his pants. "Jesus, John," she breathed, rolling her hips reflexively.

"Been thinking about you all day," he confessed roughly, his mouth trailing lower, down her collarbone to the dip between her breasts. "You look so damn good when you come."

He fisted a hand in her hair, holding her steady so his mouth could learn the lines of her body, didn't miss how she moaned and wriggled appealingly in response. His free hand slid up the bottom of her dress, and it felt so fucking good to finally be touching her, feeling her muscles move and tense beneath his fingers. They really didn't make 'em like her anymore, and it was a damn shame for everyone else, but his hands were full of River and he was feeling mighty glad to be himself at the moment.

MacCready had offered to give Hancock a few pointers earlier, claiming if anyone should come with instructions, it was River, but he was glad now that he'd turned him down. It was much more fun to discover what turned her on in her every reaction, the wide, dilated black of her pupils when he sank his teeth into her skin, or the way his voice made her grind harder against him. She was addictively responsive, and he could really get used to this, having such a beautiful woman react so strongly to his every touch. Could probably go clean for months with her sexy little noises as a substitute. . . _Maybe I'm getting a little ahead of myself._

River slid off of his lap to grab her drink, and he already missed the pressure of her weight on him, though watching her bend over to pick up her glass was certainly a treat. MacCready caught her between his legs, pressing kisses to her hip bones. His hand hunted up between her thighs and he hissed a curse when he felt how slick she was. Her grip on the glass trembled as she tried to take another sip, made increasingly difficult by MacCready sliding his fingers over her sensitive folds. "Finish your drink, angel. Then I think Hancock should see how wet you are."

River smiled, her cheeks flushed pink. She tipped her head back and killed the rest of her drink with shocking efficiency. Then she grimaced, handing the glass off to a laughing MacCready. "God, haven't chugged a drink like that since college . . ." She steadied herself against Hancock's shoulder and grinned down at him. "Will you help me to bed?"

He rose to his feet, sweeping her easily up over his shoulder. She shrieked and giggled, clutching frantically at him for balance, cursing him when he laughed. "John! Put me down!" He dropped her onto the bed, catching her flailing legs and dragging her bodily toward him. She stopped squirming when his lips seared her ankle, watching in fascination as he dragged his mouth up the curve of her leg.

Hancock shrugged impatiently out of his coat, tossing the tricorn aside. "Wanted to taste you all fucking day," he groaned before shoving her dress up over her hips. She wore nothing underneath, and the sight of her smooth, bare sex, glistening with arousal, brought him to his knees. "Jesus." He nipped at one of her soft thighs, heard her sharp intake of breath in response. "You have the most beautiful pussy I've ever seen."

River moaned, bucking her hips anxiously.

"Oh, so you don't mind it when he says it," MacCready teased, and Hancock only just realized he'd been standing at the foot of the bed, gazing appreciatively down at her.

"S'different," was the best explanation she could offer, bordering on incoherence. She parted her lips for him and he granted her two of his fingers, smirking when he felt her tongue stroke lovingly around them.

Watching them together was almost as arousing as touching her himself, a strange and thrilling realization Hancock would have to think about later. Right now, he could focus on nothing but her open legs and the treasure in between. She yelped as if he'd branded her when his mouth closed over her sex. She felt like honey and fire on his tongue, gasping his name like a mantra, and the smoke of her voice around the heavy syllable was intoxicating.

MacCready leaned down over the footboard to kiss her. Her fingers gripped clumsily at his hair, body arching after each sharp wave of pleasure. He cradled her face, taking in the ecstasy etched across her delicate features. She was writhing and keening, moaning on every breath, a tantalizing sound he recognized well. "Are you gonna come already?" he wondered around a smile.

"It's Ha-Hancock," she groaned, throwing her head back. "He's gonna - _fuck_ \- gonna eat me alive." Her fingers curled into the sheets, knuckles white. Hancock's hands were hard and rough at her hips, keeping her pinned while she bucked and shook beneath his touch. His tongue stroked her precisely, insistently, mercilessly, like he'd touched her a thousand times before and knew every centimeter of her body; like the secrets to world peace were locked away somewhere tight and her climax was the key; like he was a starving man and she was the last thing he would ever taste.

_This is it. This might be how I die._

River stared up at MacCready, his eyes crinkled as he smiled, and as far as last things to see before you die went, that one was perfect. She could barely keep her eyes open anymore as the waves of pleasure washed over her with each hungry, insistent pass of Hancock's tongue over her clit. She wasn't surprised he was so good at this - he did have something of a reputation, after all - but having a hunch about something and experiencing it were, in this case, two entirely different things.

Then she felt a long, rough finger sliding down between her folds, threatening to push into her.

"Pleasepleaseplease," River begged him. She could hear MacCready's laughter, floating somewhere above her, could feel his hand sliding up her ribs. Hancock tugged her closer, his mouth working with almost religious devotion, and she was so fucking wound up from their attention, her orgasm was on her like an ambush. She clutched blindly at MacCready's arm, thighs squeezing around Hancock's head. His tongue made ruthless circles, forcing her under the crashing waves of her release. He slid two fingers into her and she could faintly register the anguished sound he made as he felt her tighten around them. She realized past the bursts of white behind her eyelids that she was screaming. The sound died off when the last few twitches of pleasure were fading from her body, and she fell back limp against the mattress.

_La petite mort._

The words appeared, unexpectedly, in the hazy fog of her thoughts, carried on a memory she hadn't thought of in centuries.

_Nate's laughter, low and warm, always warm. "What's that now?"_

_Leon's slender, skilled fingers - pianist's fingers - trailing down the sweat on her body. "La petite mort. Literally, it means 'the little death.' It's a way to describe an orgasm . . . or that mindless bliss afterwards. Are you feeling that now, little River?"_

She was a lucky little lady to have known those two men. And the luckiest woman of all time to have the two currently staring down at her in concern. MacCready was sitting next to her, running his hand soothingly over her hair. When she opened her eyes, he smiled in relief. "Thought he might've broken you for a second there."

"I'm okay," she assured him, sitting up gingerly on her elbows.

"Goddamn, you're sweet." Hancock peppered gentle kisses down her thigh, lifting the remains of a brow at her. "Stop and take a breath if you need it, kitten. We got all night."

But River was already pulling MacCready closer, kissing him hungrily. He'd been extraordinarily patient, despite the erection she could feel pressing against her thigh. She tugged his shirt up over his head and cried out in protest when he yanked the buttons of her dress open. "I'll buy you a new one," he promised against her throat. His hands found her hips and flipped her over onto her knees as if she weighed nothing at all. She gasped when she felt his fingers shove into her, gently at first, and then harder, with purpose.

"Shit," she whined, her arms nearly giving out beneath her. "Fuck, John, get on this bed before he makes me actually pass out."

Hancock chuckled and kicked his boots off before settling onto the bed in front of her. River slid his belt free, and then her deft little fingers were wrapping around him and his head fell back, a low hiss between his teeth. "God, you're rough," she breathed, running her hands experimentally over the patchwork skin of his cock. The skin there was mostly intact, save for a few delicious grooves she felt beneath her fingers. "I bet you feel amazing." She didn't need to be more specific; he knew exactly what she meant.

"Never had any complaints," he offered with the cheekiest grin he could summon when she was squeezing him like that.

"Slut."

The sound of his laughter melted into a hoarse moan as she dipped her head to take him into her mouth. He was long, longer than MacCready - which was a fucking achievement, really - but thinner at least, and just feeling his length in her hands was already making her anxious. MacCready's hands slipped down her thighs, easing her legs further apart, and then she felt the head of his cock prodding at her. She nearly saw stars when he thrust in, slowly, and somehow she always forgot how perfectly he filled her.

"Oh, fuck." River clung to Hancock's shoulders for support, savoring the delicious burn of MacCready's cock stretching her. The first time he slid in was always the sweetest, like a miracle, like coming home. With Hancock's breath at her ear, and his rough hands sliding over her skin, all the sensation was overwhelming.

The ghoul sucked and bit at her throat, stroking his thumbs over her pert nipples. "You like it when he fucks you, River?"

"God, yes," she groaned, rocking against Hancock with each lazy thrust of MacCready's hips. Every time he reached the hilt, it forced some desperate, pathetic noise out of her that she couldn't seem to control. She trailed her mouth over Hancock's neck, her fingers moving clumsily down his shirt. "Fuck, baby," she hissed back at MacCready when he started to fuck her harder.

She could hear his laughter behind her, short and tense. The fingers of one hand dug into her hip, the other dancing down the curve of her spine. "Want me to stop?"

River pushed back against him, cherished the grunt it coaxed out of him. "Not a chance."

"That's what I thought." His hand trailed up her back to gather her hair in his fist. The sting forced her head back, exposing more of her throat to Hancock's mouth and teeth. She wished that she could see him fucking her, the hard lines of his body, the muscles in his forearm clenching as he pulled at her hair. But Hancock's appreciative stare was a hell of an alternative, a hunger in his eyes that threatened to devour her from the inside out. She met the heat of his gaze with her own while her hands worked his cock, drawing hoarse growls and curses from deep in his throat. Where teasing MacCready made her feel strong and beautiful and in control, with Hancock it felt faintly dangerous, like if she pressed too hard she might provoke something dark and thrilling.

River rather liked dark and thrilling.

"Fuck, he feels so good," she breathed, her lips at Hancock's ear. "Gonna tear me in half."

"Sounds like you might like that," he rasped, and then pinched one of her nipples between two of his fingers, the sharp pain making her yelp. MacCready released his grip on her hair to hold her hips steady and her head fell forward against Hancock's shoulder. Her eyes drifted closed, her mind trying to process all the different, overlapping layers of pain and pleasure.

"Stay with me, now," Hancock rumbled, amusement and the hint of a warning in his voice. "I haven't even gotten started with you." He took hold of her hair and listened to her pleased sigh in response. "You know, you're not the delicate little pre-war thing I thought you were. You like a little pain, don't you?" His hand tugged experimentally at her hair, making her cry out, but she leaned into his touch all the same. He rewarded her a wicked grin. "You're even more fun than I thought you'd be."

River claimed his mouth aggressively, hungrily, her tongue sliding against his, before she lowered herself onto her elbows. He kept a firm grip of her hair as she closed her lips around his length, her tongue working him expertly, muscle memory she'd been perfecting over the past few months with the man currently fucking her from behind, now so hard and fast she had to hold onto Hancock's legs for support. She eased her mouth further down his cock, feeling him press at the back of her throat. This was always the hardest part, but she was River fucking Bautista, and she wasn't gonna let a little thing like her gag reflex stop her from making Hancock forget everyone who'd ever done this for him.

"Fuck," he groaned, watching her lips with rapt attention. Every centimeter more of him she took felt like a tiny victory, his ragged breathing, the way his fist tightened in her hair.

Suddenly MacCready chuckled again behind her, pausing for a moment to take in what must've been a hell of a sight in front of him. "Told ya," he boasted before another sharp thrust into her that made her knees weak.

River peered questioningly up at Hancock. He tipped her chin up with a finger, bucking slowly up into her mouth, savoring her muffled moan around his sensitive flesh.

"MacCready's a show-off," he explained with a smirk. "Can't blame him when his lady gives the best head in the whole 'Wealth."

River rolled skeptical eyes up his way, dragging her tongue up the length of his cock as she pulled off him. "Liar."

"You're just gonna have to take my word for it." Hancock watched her from under heavy lids. Loved that smirk on her face, and that devilish mouth, swollen and wet, and her tight little fist around the base of his cock. She looked fucking wild and absolutely breathtaking. Every now and then her eyes rolled back a little, shuddering in the lulls between each time MacCready rammed into her. Kid looked pleased, and a little amused - something was always fucking funny to MacCready - grabbing at River's hips and trailing his nails down her back, making her arch and sigh beneath him.

River took Hancock into her mouth again, tight heat and suction that made his head swim. Every little sound she made hummed like a heartbeat around him, lower and lower the deeper she got. Her hands curled into fists, nails clawing him through the material of his pants, and he could see tears squeeze out from the ends of her eyes. But still she persisted, breathing hard through her nose, slowly, _inhale, exhale_ , another inch, another skip in Hancock's pulse. She held him there for a long moment until suddenly she gagged and pulled away, muffling a cough into the back of her wrist.

MacCready pulled out hardly a second later, brows pushed down in concern. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she assured them both. She turned to smile at MacCready over her shoulder, shaking her hips invitingly. "I can take it."

"Tell me if you can't," he told her, his voice low and serious, pressing his hand tenderly to her face.

"Promise." River kissed his fingers, and for the first time that night Hancock felt a little out of place, like an outsider peeking in. He looked away, casting his eyes around the dark garage, to the coffee table where the candles were burning down to the wood.

"Don't tell me I'm boring you already, John." River was touching him again, the moment evidently over, sliding down onto her elbows to kiss the tip of his cock. She was damn good at that, swaying the people around her with a few easy words, like she could see straight through Hancock to the root of his discomfort and knew just what to say to dispel it. A soft, pre-war bombshell like her didn't have many advantages in a ruined world, but she wielded her words and that scrumptious mouth they came out of like weapons. Wasn't too bad with a rifle, either, from what he'd seen in their travels together. Really was the perfect woman if he thought about it - one in a million - beautiful, deadly, fucking sexual as all hell. Dangerous thoughts to have about a woman that wasn't his. . . . but maybe he wouldn't mind being hers.

Think about that later. "Couldn't if you tried, kitten," Hancock promised, smirking down at her. "Figured the dick in your hand would be proof enough."

River laughed, that sensual, breathy fricative over and over, so sweet he already wanted another hit of it. "Potty mouth."

"Only 'cause you like it so much." He nipped at the flesh of her jaw, planted kisses up to the shell of her ear. "Want me to tell you all the things I wanna do to you?" When she shivered, he pressed on, giving her no chance to recover. MacCready lined himself up behind her and slid in again, her face twisting up in response, half pleasure half relief, like he was soothing some ache deep in that perfect body of hers. "I want to fill up that sweet little cunt of yours. Want to feel you come around me. Make you scream my name so loud the whole fuckin' Commonwealth'll hear ya."

His voice at her ear and MacCready pounding into her had River coming hard and fast between them. "Fuckfuckfu-ahhh!" Her words tapered off into a shrill scream, body tensing and convulsing against Hancock as her orgasm overwhelmed her. She gripped his thighs for support, lips parted around the enticing sound of her falling apart, he could listen to it for the rest of his days and never get over it. MacCready hunched over, thrusting into her a few more times before he followed after.

"Fuck," he groaned, pulling out with a tired chuckle. He laid a quick smack to River's ass before climbing unsteadily off the bed. "You okay here for a sec?"

"I think I can keep busy."

River shrugged out of her ruined dress, holding it between her legs to catch the remains of MacCready's orgasm. Hancock didn't seem turned off at all. She could feel his eyes roaming the expanse of her naked body as she rolled onto her back. He moved over her with the coiled grace of a predator - a dangerous man who knew his strength and just how he wanted to use it on her. He caught her ankles and dragged her closer, her legs spilling over his lap. He ripped the dress from her grip and threw it dismissively over his shoulder, drinking in the sight of her laid out before him.

"You're the best damn thing I've seen in a long, long time," Hancock confessed, his voice dark and rough, that rasp that moved like a caress over her skin. She licked her lips, nibbled the bottom one, flashed him a smile. His answering grin was wolfish, almost menacing. Lazily, like he had all the time in the world, he pulled his shirt up over his head. She took in every line of his chest, wondering vaguely how fucking good it was going to feel against her. He was all lean muscle and taut, patchwork skin, foreign and new but not unappealing. And his cock standing tall and erect between her knees was the cherry on top.

Evidently Hancock decided he'd had enough of looking, shifting into position over her. He kissed her first, a harsh press of lips and tongue. His teeth stung her jaw, then her throat, then the swell of a breast. She whimpered when she felt his tongue circle a nipple, hungry and determined, like he wouldn't be done with her until he'd exhausted every damn nerve in her body. Meanwhile she could feel his hands on her hips, guiding her legs up around his waist.

River shuddered at the first feel of him, sliding languidly over her silky folds. Just that simple touch felt like lightning and fire after her earlier orgasms. She measured her breathing, tried to focus on every little sensation, every place where his body met hers, and when she opened her eyes, Hancock was watching her with some interest.

"Keep those pretty eyes open for me, yeah?"

She gasped and nodded, leaving her eyes obediently on his as he started to push into her. He chuckled when they rolled back a little and she had to fight to stay focused, but every centimeter more of him she took was somehow infinitely sweeter than the last. He was deep and getting deeper, and she'd been wrong earlier; _this,_ now, was going to tear her in half, and it wouldn't make for the greatest etching on her tombstone, but it would be a hell of a way to go.

Hancock's hand caught her jaw, angled her head back before shifting over the base of her throat. "How - ?" was the last sound that made it out before he squeezed, hard, just short of cutting off her air supply. She felt the familiar pounding pressure in her head as her lungs struggled for air, every sensation intensified in the wake of that searing burn.

"Had a hunch," he rumbled, cursing when her walls clenched around his cock, thighs urging him closer. "Fuck, you're tight. Christ." He hadn't even made it all the way in before he pulled himself back out, and feeling every rough inch of him drag past her sensitive walls was a new form of sensory torture.

River's hands flexed - she needed to fill them with something. She clawed at his shoulders, nails biting into his skin, and his hips bucked a little harder, filling her up near to burst.

"Scratch me up all you like, little kitten. I can take it." He grunted when her teeth clamped down on his shoulder, but it didn't slow the determined rhythm his hips were making. He released her throat in favor of bracing himself against the mattress, letting his other hand wander all over her flushed body.

"Didn't miss anything good, did I?"

River's head lolled back and she could see MacCready leaning against the wall in his underwear. He winked at her, smirking around a cigarette, looking every sort of cocky and delicious.

"Won't be long now," Hancock shot back, giving a hard thrust that forced a cry from River's throat. She bit him again, hard this time, and he muffled a guttural moan into the curve of her throat.

"Forgot to mention she fights back," MacCready interjected helpfully, flopping down onto the couch. "But arrogance, that always turns her on." Then he chuckled, almost thoughtfully. "What doesn't, though, right?"

River freed Hancock's neck from between her teeth to shoot MacCready a scowl across the room. "You better watch your mouth, Robert Joseph." She wished Hancock didn't feel so fucking good inside of her. . . the pleasure on her face and shaking through her voice surely took some of the intimidation out of her threat.

"Oh, yeah?" He blew smoke her way, lifting a skeptical brow. "Whatcha gonna do if I don't?"

" _Son of a bitch_ ," River replied menacingly, struggling to focus past the blinding heat and pressure building deep in the pit of her belly. "I'm gonna - I'm gonna - fuck I'm gonna come."

Vaguely she registered the sound of MacCready's smug laughter. Hancock shifted one of her legs over his shoulder, angled himself deeper, and he was all she could see and feel and hear past the swell of sensation he painted like a work of art over her skin - his lips and teeth at her shoulder, his hands like brush strokes over her breasts, down her ribs, at the slick flesh of her sex, stretching around his cock.

River clung helplessly to Hancock's shoulders as she came unraveled, releasing his name in a piercing scream, just like he'd promised. His hips slowed at the feeling of her clamping down tight around him, his voice guiding her like a lighthouse through the waves of her climax.

"That's right, kitten. Fuck, you're gorgeous when you come. Like fuckin' heaven around me."

Eventually the twinges of pleasure tapered off, leaving River gasping and boneless in their wake. Hancock was grinning triumphantly down at her, and she noted with some satisfaction that he was looking a little breathless himself.

MacCready admired her from under heavy lids, palming the erection now straining in his underwear.

"You got one more in you, baby?" Her voice was throaty from all the screaming, but he seemed to like it. She laughed at the sight of his eager smile. "Not that you deserve it. Maybe I should make you sit there all alone while we finish up."

Amusement and frustration warred over his handsome features, an expression she absolutely loved on him. She knew his hungers as well as her own by now. Where she craved pain - teeth and nails, a fist in her hair or around her throat - he craved that sharp edge of _wanting_ , need and not have, being denied. Made it all the sweeter when she finally gave him what he wanted - that slim, terrifying chance that this time she might decide not to.

River moved to the edge of the bed, and the way MacCready was looking at her made her feel fucking amazing, powerful, unstoppable, like the world started and ended in the crystal blue of his gaze, and as long as she had him, nothing could slow her down. Hancock knelt down behind her, steadying her hips with his hands.

"Touch yourself for me, baby," she urged MacCready, and she couldn't keep how badly she wanted to see it out of her voice even if she tried. The sound of it seemed to win him over. He freed himself from his underwear and she moaned at the sight of him, already so hard for her again - the man's stamina was a fucking miracle, certainly more than a woman like her deserved. She'd loved his cock from the first moment she laid eyes on it, and her heart seemed to skip a beat when he wrapped one of those hands she always admired around the base of it. A whimper escaped from between her teeth and the bottom lip they bit down into.

Hancock spread her with his fingers, pausing to brush his rough knuckles over her sensitive clit before driving into her again, slowly, growling under his breath _, so good_ and  _so perfect,_ tiny praises in the rough curl of his voice. He made it all the way in, until his hips hit the back of her ass, and she was so full it was almost hard to breathe. Suddenly Hancock brought a hand down hard on the curve of her hip and she cried out, coaxing a groan out of him when she pulsed reflexively around him. He chuckled deviously. "You mark up real nice." He soothed the handprint starting to form over her pale skin with his hand, making her moan and push back against him.

River couldn't take her eyes off of MacCready. He stroked himself slowly, almost defiantly so - he'd do it for her, but he'd do it his way, like always. _Fucking brat_. He smirked as if he could read her mind, then blew her a kiss - absolutely adorable and utterly absurd. Her heart gave a sudden squeeze, reminding her how much she loved him and all of his defiance. MacCready licked his palm and then gripped the head of his cock, exhaling heavily as he pushed up into his fist.

 _Jesus, I should've had him do this months ago._ She couldn't put her finger on what made it so damn arousing, the man she loved touching himself for her. Maybe it was a power trip thing, some dominance she secretly craved, possibly some latent pre-war insecurities coming to the surface. Either way, it was a treat she'd have to remember for later.

Hancock spanked her again, hard enough to draw a pathetic whimper out of her. It was a different kind of pain, white hot and itching under her skin, but his touch over the abused flesh afterward felt soft as velvet. He manipulated her body with an easy expertise that still somehow left her flushed and wanting, after so many orgasms she'd lost track by now, which was her new favorite problem to have.

"River. . . ."

The sound of MacCready's voice so throaty and pained around her name like that sent shivers down her spine. He gripped himself tighter now, his hand moving with more purpose, and she could hear the urgency in his every breath. She couldn't resist him when he was so desperate and wanting. "Come here."

He was on his feet in an instant, crossing the room toward her. She smiled and planted kisses along the flat planes of his stomach, trailing downward. Hancock slowed the pace of his thrusts to watch in interest as she reached the base of MacCready's cock and dragged the heat of her mouth up his length. He tenderly brushed her hair back from her face, gazing down at her with admiration in his eyes. She knew every inch of him, had no trouble taking him as deep as he would go. She heard all the breath leave him in an incredulous groan, like every time was the first time and he couldn't believe it was really happening. For all his arrogance and sarcasm, he really could be the most precious thing she'd ever seen.

She caught a flash of motion in her peripheral vision and glanced up to see MacCready gesturing at Hancock over her back. Moments later her unspoken question was answered when Hancock's hand came hunting down the side of her hip, over her tensing thigh to the slick flesh between her legs.

_Fuckin' trouble, the both of them._

River released all but the head of MacCready's cock, suckling softly before sliding back down. He muffled swear words under his breath, bucking uncontrollably into the back of her throat. He'd been so sweet to arrange this all for her, and she really wanted to make it up to him, but Hancock was as good with his hands as he was with his mouth and his cock, and having two of the three on and in her at the same time was making it increasingly difficult to stay focused. His fingers made torturous circles around the sensitive bead of her clitoris, stroked sideways lovingly over it, then dipped down to brush up over it from below. She would've been screeching and whining if her mouth wasn't so busy, but MacCready didn't seem to mind all the noises and vibration. He gathered her hair into a tight grip, and she relaxed into his hold, flashing him a passive glance and letting him lead her. She could practically hear the smirk in his every breath as he slid deeper into her throat.

Feeding into his arrogance was almost as sexy as watching it crumble.

River braced a hand against MacCready's hip, feeling his muscles tense and move beneath her palm. It was getting difficult to measure her breathing and keep herself calm, with the head of his cock filling her throat while Hancock thrust deep into her, his fingers coaxing her steadily toward another orgasm.

She traced her fingertips down the slope of MacCready's thigh, where it curved into his groin, and he shuddered beneath her touch. He'd already come, he was going to be stubborn now, but River knew all the things he loved, and she could be very, very determined when it came to pleasing him. She swallowed, her throat squeezing tight around the length of his cock and he let out a strangled noise, his fingers clumsily pushing her hair back from her face.

Hancock dug his fingers into her hips, and each time he slid into her, heat spread like a wildfire through her body. "You're holdin' out on me," he accused her gruffly.

River sucked hard as she pulled off of MacCready's cock, teasing another groan out of him. "I'm trying to focus," she complained at Hancock over her shoulder.

"I don't want you focused." He thrust in as deep as he could go, grinding his hips against her and toying with her slick bud. "I want you fuckin' fallin' apart."

"I can't - that's not - mmn, god, yes, keep doing that." She arched her hips back against him, chasing the rough pads of his fingers. "Fuck!" Her fingers curled into the sheets, thighs trembling as she teetered on the edge of another release. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

Hancock choked out a laugh, thrusting steadily until she came. She didn't scream this time, couldn't put her throat through any more abuse, just panted and whimpered her way through climax. Hancock groaned behind her. "Fuck you get so tight." He slowed his pace, savoring the sweet resistance each time he drove back into her. His fingers traced the curve of her spine, dragging over sweat-damp skin, smoothest thing he'd felt in years. River finally stopped squeezing around him, slick heat sliding down her shaking thighs.

She was determined as all hell, though, an absolute marvel, lifting herself up on unstable arms to kiss the head of MacCready's cock. Hancock wondered how the kid summoned up the will to ever leave this room. He could've spent the rest of eternity here fucking River, watching her unravel again and again, listening to the symphony of her cries; and she worked him with such _devotion_ , like she'd live out her last hours sucking him off if it meant making him come one more time.

Her lips moved searchingly down the side of MacCready's cock, tongue laving the sensitive skin around the base of his length. He breathed her name with a reverence normally reserved for prayer, the sound morphing into a curse when she glanced up at him from under the weight of his cock. He'd never get over the sight of her like this, bare and vulnerable and utterly _his,_ even as another man fucked her. He grabbed her hair in his fist, guiding her back to the tip of his cock so he could ease back into her mouth. She took him eagerly, like she'd been waiting for him to take control, a rather new and exhilarating concept he'd have to explore a little later, when they had some time alone. He felt more than heard the moan at the back of her throat when Hancock bottomed out, his wide hands palming her hips to keep her steady.

"Fuck, beautiful." MacCready braced his legs against the edge of the bed when they started to feel weak beneath him. The tight, wet heat of her mouth was the best thing to ever exist in the world, probably the universe. "You're so fucking good."

Hancock laughed, the sound sending chills down her spine. "Always figured she could make you cuss."

MacCready met her gaze, read the knowing arrogance in the gold of her eyes. "She could make me do anything," he said breathlessly, with all the conviction of a universal truth. He inched further past her lips, as deep as he could go into the tight grasp of her throat. He felt her tongue stroking lovingly the underside of his cock, a reward, maybe, for his devotion, or perhaps the fervor with which he'd professed it. He loved her intensely, unconditionally, and he knew she would never tire of hearing it.

There was something liberating about being spread open between two men, feeling their hands moving over her like a tide, similar yet separate entities, all overwhelming her with sensation. It was that intoxicating contradiction of powerful and powerless, being suspended somewhere in between, that melted the stress from her body like it had never been there at all.

MacCready pulled himself free from her lips, catching a stray tear that spilled down her cheek on his index finger. "Let's move you, angel."

Hancock picked her up just as easily as before, shifting her flat onto her stomach, mindful of the strain on her knees. His fingers dug expertly into her shoulders, eliciting a soft hiss of appreciation, kneaded the tension from the muscles down her back. He straddled her legs, hips slotted behind the tempting curve of her ass. His cock slid easily between the slick flesh of her thighs and back into her tight heat. She gasped, hands gripping the bed sheets, body stiffening up at the sweet intrusion.

MacCready came around in front of her and settled with his legs on either side of her. She pushed herself up onto her elbows, gazing up at him from under her lashes. Her cheeks were flushed from exertion, lips swollen and wet. He caught her jaw in his hand and held her there, savoring the pleasure that played across her features, Hancock a dark shape of rocking motion in his peripheral. She licked at his thumb until he pushed it between her teeth, feeling her tongue caress the pad of his finger. He groaned, heard her whimper around his thumb in response. She released his finger with one last gentle kiss before gripping one of his wrists and placing it at the nape of her neck - held it there until his fingers took firm hold of her hair. Keeping the honey amber of her eyes on him, she lowered her lips to the head of his cock, so close he could feel her breath ghosting over the sensitive tip.

"RJ," she breathed, tongue flashing out to stroke the end of his cock. The edge of her lips curled up into a wicked smile. "I'm yours. _Use me_."

His mouth went dry with a sudden swell of anticipation. He urged her closer by the hair, until her mouth seared the tip of his cock, and then he guided her deeper. His hips jerked instinctively up into the tight grip of her mouth around him, as rough as he dared be without hurting her. She rolled skeptical eyes up his eyes, a challenge in her dilated pupils.

He'd played this game with her before, the how-much-can-River-take game; sometimes she caved quickly, graciously allowed him to please her and take it easy on her; other times she would make him push her to the very brink of what she could endure, until she almost didn't have the energy to cry mercy.

River hummed and whimpered around him, encouraging, sinful little noises, so he pushed deeper into her throat, until he could feel her lips at the base of his cock. Her fingers followed the upward slope of his thigh and cradled the aching weight of his balls, filling his belly with a pressing, ravenous heat.

His head fell back with a clang against the headboard, so loud Hancock looked up from his hands, filled with River's ass.

"Goddamn," the ghoul rasped, landing an appreciative spank on one of her reddened cheeks. He braced his hands on either side of her and leaned forward until he could feel every delicious wriggle of her body beneath him. Her legs shifted open, allowing him to thrust deeper. He stifled his moan into the smooth skin of her back, closed his teeth around the curve of a shoulder. When his hand slid between her and the bedsheets, an awkward reach under their combined weight, her hips jerked back against him. He stroked her pert nipples, releasing her skin from between his teeth only to rumble filthy words in her ear.

"How does it feel, little kitten?" He nipped at her shoulder blades, felt her shudder beneath his lips. "My cock all the way inside you like this?"

The sound she made was somewhere between a groan and a snarl, hard to tell with MacCready's dick in her mouth. She was probably still pissed at him for breaking her focus - but definitely also turned on, judging from the wet sound every time he hilted in her, the silky feel of her arousal on his cock, dripping down onto his thigh.

Hancock trailed his hand down the soft planes of River's stomach, past her dewy curls to where her body parted around him. Her breath hitched, released in a puff of hot air against MacCready's skin. He teased her with short, shallow thrusts, fingers finding once more her aching clitoris, now so raw and swollen the contact drew an agonized whimper from deep in her throat. "You're gonna look so damn good full of my cum."

He heard her sharp intake of breath and felt her body start to tremble beneath him. "I know, kitten," he panted, digging his fingers into her hips, almost hard enough to bruise. "You're so fuckin' sweet. Be a good girl and come one more time for me, sweetheart."

River gripped at MacCready's thighs, throat full and contracting around his cock. Hancock locked an arm around her waist, rocking deep, his teeth at her shoulder. MacCready sighed and moaned and cursed under his breath, all of the sweet sounds she loved hearing from him. She was usually the one reduced to a stream of mindless nonsense, but when it was him it hit her ear like music: " _So good, so perfect, beautiful River, fuck._ "

Behind her, she could hear Hancock's labored breathing, the slick sound of his cock driving repeatedly into her, faster now, his thrusts growing erratic. She angled her hips as high as she could lift them after so much activity, groaned around the thick base of MacCready's cock when Hancock snapped his hips flat against hers and bottomed out.

She didn't have much time left - this last orgasm Hancock was so diligently trying to work out of her was going to leave her sobbing and useless. She swallowed, breathing hard through her nose past the sensation of MacCready so deep down her throat. Then she dragged her lips a few inches up, gripping the last stretch of him in her fist. She worked her hands and mouth in tandem, free hand trailing teasing caresses over the sensitive skin of his thighs.

 _Come on, baby_. She glanced up at his face, ecstasy etched into every line, lips parting around his clenched teeth. He met her gaze, pupils blown out and wild, releasing her name on a strangled breath. His hands tightened in her hair and then his hips thrust deep into her mouth as he came. She moaned, feeling him throb and erupt between her lips. His hips quivered beneath her hands as she swallowed the last few pulses of his orgasm. She loved him, loved this, loved the way his voice broke apart into that frayed, hoarse cry, loved the bitter taste at the back of her tongue. His hands gentled in her hair, body going limp after his climax.

Hancock wasted no time. He yanked her closer to him by the hips, flipping her bodily onto her back. His hand curled around the back of her neck and guided her into a rough kiss, all clashing teeth and his tongue pushing past her swollen lips. If he could still taste MacCready there, he didn't seem to mind, just cradled her head in the rough palm of his hand and slowed to a deep, unhurried pace.

"Please," River whimpered in between biting kisses. "Please."

He smirked, sucking another bruise into the arching pillar of her throat. "What do you need, kitten?"

She shuddered and shook in his arms, strung tight like a wire, seconds from either another intense orgasm or losing consciousness entirely. Words were difficult to pin down in the dark haze of pleasure, weighing down her thoughts. She could think of only one, and she held fast to it like an anchor, grounding her somewhere among all the sensation that threatened to overload her nerves.

"Mercy," she pleaded.

Hancock shifted her legs up over his shoulders, pushing in deep and watching her eyes roll back into her head. Her nails bit into his sides like teeth, one of her heels digging painfully into his spine, but he savored the ache; it was part of fucking her, and he wanted to enjoy the full experience.

"John. _John_." She was tensing and writhing beneath him, face screwing up as she danced along the edge of climax.

"Go on," he coaxed her, the words feeling heavy and clumsy in his mouth. He wasn't far off from his own orgasm, was pretty shocked he'd lasted this long in the first place, but River wasn't the type of woman you wanted to disappoint. "Let me see you come one more time."

MacCready stumbled to his feet and stood beside the bed, catching his breath. River gaped up at him with wide, shining eyes, mouth moving around voiceless pleas. He wrapped his hand around her throat and squeezed, feeling it swell with her every breath. Tears ran in tracks of black mascara down her cheeks and she nodded, desperately, a whine of approval caught beneath his palm.

It didn't take long after that, a few more determined thrusts from Hancock, MacCready murmuring softly to her under his breath, and then River shattered. She let loose one last shrill, arching cry that choked off into a gasp, hands fisting in the sheets. The clench and pull of her cunt as she came pushed Hancock over the edge and he burst with a low groan inside of her. He teased out the last few heated shocks of his climax with clumsy, erratic thrusts and then barely caught himself above her, his head spinning.

For a moment there was only the sound of them all trying to catch their breath. The garage was warm from their body heat, candles burned down to the wick on the coffee table.

River was the first to move, pushing weakly at Hancock's shoulders until he rolled off of her. Her thoughts were sluggish and sated, a sweet ache throbbing between her thighs. "Baby," she rasped hoarsely, reaching feebly for MacCready.

He brushed his fingers down the line of her jaw, pressing a tender kiss to her lips. "Stay here, beautiful. We'll take care of you."

She had just enough energy left to smile up at him and weakly cup the hand that was cradling her face with her own.

Hancock planted one last kiss to her smooth shoulder, littered with bite marks from his teeth, before climbing gingerly to his feet. She heard them moving around the room, the rustle of fabric as they pulled on their clothing. They spoke to each other in low voices, but her mind was still working overtime trying to process all the sensation she'd just experienced, and she couldn't pick apart what they were saying.

Moments later one of them sat down behind her. It was MacCready from the feel of his hands on her arms, helping her sit up against his chest. She peeled her eyes open and glared blearily at the can of purified water he was holding out in front of her. "Come on, beautiful, you should try to drink something."

Her hands shook around the can, but she managed to draw a few shallow sips, the cool water soothing her abused throat.

Hancock came back over with stimpaks, his pants sagging loosely around his hips. "You look like you've been through hell and back," he told her, something like pride in the rasp of his voice. His fingers ghosted appreciatively over a few of the marks his teeth and hands had left on her. "Pretty as you look like this, you're gonna hurt somethin' fierce in the morning." His hands were gentle as he applied the stimpaks, soothing over a bruise on her hip with his fingertips.

Once River was healing up, MacCready eased her back against the mattress. He pulled a blanket from her cabinet and draped it over her, tucking the sides in around her body. She coaxed him down into a languid kiss. "Love you, baby," she slurred, feeling herself drift irrevocably toward sleep and knowing she didn't have much time left before it took hold of her.

"Always," he promised.

She stifled a yawn into the back of her hand, lifting her head to send Hancock one last tired smile. "Night, John."

"Get some sleep, sweetheart."

They left her slumbering deeply on the bed, retreating out into the cool night air. MacCready lit a cigarette for himself and then tossed the pack to Hancock. They smoked in silence, the wordless camaraderie of two men who had just made love to the same woman.

MacCready finally cleared his throat, breaking the stillness. "So. . . ."

"Yeah," Hancock replied absently.

"Bed's obviously big enough for three, if you want to stick around. I know it sounds crazy, but she'll probably want it again in the morning." He smirked. "She's a morning person, but only after she's had breakfast. She's an absolute _nightmare_ if she doesn't get breakfast." He said it casually but pointedly, the cadence of an accomplice, passing along secrets of the trade to a new hire.

Hancock laughed dryly. "Jesus, I'm in that deep already, huh?"

MacCready shrugged, a quick, casual lift of his shoulders; would've almost been convincing if not for the amusement in his eyes. "Aren't you?"

 

Hancock spent the night. They slept on either side of her, each with a hand laced with one of hers.

In the morning, they made her breakfast.


End file.
